


I come to you, for you and underneath you (Jag Kommer)

by Barriss



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Modern Era, Porn, Smut, enjolras x eponine, enjonine - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:56:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barriss/pseuds/Barriss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The things one day can lead to. Man, life sure works in fucked up ways, but it definitely makes you see the light in the end. And Enjolras has seen the light. And it's multicolored. And shiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Being high on the aftermath of you (How did we even get here?)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, this fic is based on a prompt by the beautiful Hannah, who wanted a fic based on the song Jag Kommer by Veronica Maggio. 
> 
> I completely fell in love with the song, and it inspired probably the best fic I’ve ever written (I say this, even though I’m still currently writing it). And yes, I’ve had this prompt since August, and since I’m so fucking slow, I decided I might as well just post the first part and pray that it’ll motivate me to write faster. 
> 
> Anyway, it was supposed to be a oneshot, but it’s getting too long, so I decided to divide it into smaller parts. 
> 
> So, without further ado, here is the first one, and Hannah, you better like it. 
> 
> Rated T for swearing and crude language. (For now).

 

Part 1

**Being high on the aftermath of you (How did we even get here?)**

Lots of people have told him that it's a crime against nature for a 26 year-old bachelor, who's said to have the face of an angel and the body of a marble statue – bunch of bullshit if you ask him – to spend Friday night tucked in his bed, away from the psychedelic lights and ear infecting music of the Parisian nightlife. And yeah, Enjolras was never the wild party-animal – hell, he wasn't even the domestic party-animal – but after the seventh phone call and twelfth text, normal people would sorta get the picture that he isn't interested in painting the town vomit with Grantaire or getting his ass felt up by dubious men or women with similarly low morals as his good buddy Courfeyrac.

Oh wait… yeah, normal people would. What was he thinking?

But why in God's holy garden should he leave his apartment when he's lying contentedly nude in his comfy as clouds queen-sized bed, with the lights set to low so he can see the twelve stars that are out tonight, and the LSD trip that's the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album playing softly in the background?  _'Picture yourself in a train in a station, with plasticine porters with looking glass ties, suddenly someone is there at the turnstile, the girl with kaleidoscope eyes'_  – Seriously, 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds' is such a good fucking song. And it goes so well with the gorgeous brunette sleeping just as awesomely nude beside him, in a position that's not only worthy of the most immense of boners, but makes you feel that want-to-grab-her-in-your-arms-and-snuggle-like-a-C are-Bear kind of thing.

She's resting on her back, with her legs spread open in an almost obscene way, and he isn't sure if he's grateful or frustrated as fuck that the sheet is still barely covering her crotch. Well, at least her boobs are still on full glorious display.

But it's the way one of her hands clings to his bicep and refuses to let go that really gets his heart going.

Weird.

It's so fucking weird.

Not once in his life has he ever looked at a man or woman like some sort of ravenous wolf, wanting them sexually and emotionally, needing them like a junkie needs his crack, and never has he actually felt himself fall like he's falling now. It's like he's falling through this black hole, but there's something like a light at the end of it. It's weird. And as he's staring at Éponine, who's snoring lightly and looking like the cutest fucking thing he's ever seen, this shit feels even weirder.

It's even weirder because they've been friends for such a long time. They've known each other for years, they've seen each other every day, they've talked, they've joked, they've kicked R in the ballsack – not at the same time though, that wouldn't have been cool – and were just about as close as all les Amis were. So why the fuck has he never realized how truly beautiful and amazing this girl really was until today?

Seriously… one day… it took just one day for Éponine to turn from best girl-ami – yeah, she definitely wins over Musichetta and Marius' Courgette – to the girl he just lost his virginity to and is probably starting to fall in love with? How the hell?

Well, it all started out as…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! Here's part 2 of this weird piece of fic I'm writing. I've had most of this written for months, but I just never had the time to flesh it out and finish it until now.
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who followed, liked and review, and to the Guest: Sorry, my perfection cannot be contained.
> 
> A reminder, this fic is for the wonderful Hannah, who wanted a fic based on the song 'Jag Kommer' by Veronica Maggio.
> 
> It's rated T for swearing and crude language (for now).
> 
> Also, keep in mind that I didn't get any of this beta'd, so if you see some mistakes, sorry about that.
> 
> Enjoy.

 

**Part 2**

**Of hair bands, caffeinated piss, and her oddity**

"Thanks so much for coming with me, man. I would've been right fucked if you hadn't had my back in there," Éponine grinned and smacked him on the shoulder in what was probably an appreciative gesture, but still hurt either way.

"What good is a degree in law if you can't help your friends out of a delicate legal bind," Enjolras smirked and held the door open for her as they exited the Palais de Justice.

It was a nice Friday morning. The sun was out and the temperature was still pleasantly high, even though the autumn winds were starting to slowly rear their chilly heads. It was barely past 10am, and whereas the streets had been packed with suits and kids with backpacks a few hours ago, now there was hardly a soul to be seen, except for your rare hobo or common tourist.

"Well, with the parents I have, it's like I'm always stuck between a rock and a hard place. The binds will just keep on coming." She shrugged and looked down as she said this, and he wanted to kick himself for making her remember the drugged up deadbeats she should never have had to call 'mom and dad'. Éponine had balls of steel, but whenever her parents came up, she'd get this really sad look in her eyes that he never really knew how to reply to.

"You'll be fine," he said and touched her arm for a really brief second in what he considered a comforting gesture, but was probably as cold as an ice cube for passionate, fiery 'Ponine, who gave out more hugs than the crazies who hold those stupid 'Free Hugs' signs in the middle of the street, "you always are." It was the only thing he could think of, but it was also a sentence they both knew was an accurate fact, and they both acknowledged this with a quick smile in each other's direction.

"I really do appreciate you coming to help me out, I know it was on short notice and everything," she gave him another smile and stopped when they reached the main road.

Enjolras turned to face her, and they both stood, looking at each other in the middle of the street, like they were ready to go their separate ways, but trying to make the moment last just a little bit longer. Or they just had no idea which way to go, which seemed more probable.

He didn't really have any plans, having cancelled a meeting he had planned with one of his clients. But she didn't need to know about that.

"Well, next time make sure you come to me from the get-go, not fuck yourself over by asking Courfeyrac for help." Enjolras cringed at the thought. "Seriously, what were you thinking?!"

"I know, I know, okay?!" Éponine groaned. "I just hoped that maybe this time he was gonna at least try to be a reliable human being."

He gave her a withering look. "It's Courfeyrac, 'Ponine."

She closed her eyes and pursed her lips, and it was pretty clear even she was aware how straight up stupid she had been to trust the moron.

"Just talk to me first next time you have legal troubles, okay?" he sighed and straightened the glasses on his nose. "Where you headed off to now?"

She scrunched up her face in that way she always did when she was thinking of something. It was cute. She had some cute little quirks about her that weren't really anything special, but they made Éponine… well, Éponine. "Nothing much," she replied, "took today off so I don't really have any plans. Was thinking of getting some breakfast since I didn't have the chance to eat at home."

"Woke up late again?" he smirked at her knowingly. It was a known fact amongst their group that 'Ponine was a complete zombie in the morning. Two separate alarms, with the combined efforts of Gavroche and Azelma were barely enough to get her out of bed at the right hour. It was pretty amazing actually.

"Shut the fuck up," she retorted jokingly and punched him in the chest.

Joke aside, it still fucking hurt.

"You really need to stop with the hitting," he grumbled as he rubbed the sore spot on his pectoral. Good thing he works out, or else that would have knocked the wind out of him for sure. "Mind if I join you?"

He wasn't hungry, but he only managed to have two cups of coffee this morning, which was an insulting amount since he usually drinks at least four before midday, and the buzz was already starting to wear off.

Éponine smiled at him and she looked a bit surprised, which was understandable since he never really asked to join anyone, anywhere. Ever. "Sure, that'd be awesome." And she smiled even wider, and he didn't really know why she did that. Or why it would be awesome. But she'd never really had the best of tastes in company, she used to have a thing for Pontmercy after all.

So they started walking towards a nearby café they knew had good, cheap coffee and acceptable sandwiches, because apparently she was in a finger food kind of mood. "There's never a bad time for sammiches," she explained, as if he already didn't fucking know that.

"So why did Courf stand me up?" Éponine asked after they had reached the café and placed their orders. He got just an espresso, black as tar, while she asked for a ham sandwich that sounded pretty damn good, and some kind of unholy concoction that supposedly had coffee in it. What did she call it? Vanilla Mocha Caramel Frappuccino or some other devil-inspired title that probably had less caffeine than his piss did after a regular work day.

"What, he didn't tell you?" Enjolras replied just as the waitress came in with their orders, and he pretended he didn't see the toothy grin the chick threw at him when she placed his coffee in front of him.

Éponine eyed the waitress with a raised eyebrow and cleared her throat when the woman was taking way too long to lay down a couple of items on the table. "He just said he wasn't feeling okay. And I think that bimbo's probably gonna need new panties by the time she clears our table," she added after the woman finally left their table, taking her sweet time and glancing back at least twice before she retreated into the building.

Enjolras snorted, but chose not to dignify the second sentence with a reply. He was too used to have strange men or women ogle at him wherever he passed. It used to piss him off at first, but he realized that wasn't gonna make them stop, so he just resorted to ignoring the eyes that were always on him at one point or another.

"It's true Courfeyrac isn't in top shape," he answered, smirking, and took a sip from his coffee – Ah, Mana replenished! "Do you remember that 30 year-old woman he's been chasing for some time now?"

"The teacher or the aerobics instructor?" she asked as she began eating her sandwich. And wow, she really gobbled that shit up. It was gone in 3 bites. Did she even chew?

"Teacher. History teacher, actually. Well, apparently, unbeknownst to our Courfeyrac, she not only had a passion for history, but also for medieval torture devices. No, really," he added when he saw the face she made and he started having a hard time not cackling at the stuff Feuilly had told him after Marius had spilled the beans on why Courfeyrac had been walking funny when he got home last night.

'Ponine shivered and took a sip of her tea – seriously, that piss should not be called coffee. "Shit, my mind is going into all the wrong places right now."

"Which is probably the right direction," he chuckled.

Éponine groaned and shook her head, probably to get rid of all the images involving Courfeyrac and his mistress with a passion for ancient S&M. "Seriously, where does he find them?"

Enjolras smirked. "Well, you know Courfeyrac, he's got a voodoo mojo brewing at the go-go that could knock a witch off her broom." He saw the chance and he took it, and he doubted she would get the reference, but he'd always wanted to use that line in conversation.

"Hah!" she exclaimed and actually startled him. The other patrons in the café were giving them weird glances, and he would have been embarrassed had he actually cared. "One Wild Night! You like Bon Jovi?" she asked, looking and sounding like she had just discovered buried treasure.

He wasn't expecting her to recognize the lyrics, but he was pleasantly surprised to find he had been wrong. "I've got ears," he replied like it was the most ridiculous question he'd been asked. It wasn't, but it sure as hell made no sense to him why people would need to know if someone liked Bon Jovi or not. Everyone should fucking like Bon Jovi.

"Some people don't listen," she placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward with a huge grin on her face.

"Some people are stupid." He did the same.

"A truth universally acknowledged," she nodded wisely, and Enjolras had to stop himself from making fun of the Jane Austen reference. "Didn't think you were into that kind of music," Éponine observed and the notion seemed to excite her in some found-another-kindred-spirit kind of way. Strangely enough, he felt the same way.

"I am into all things that are an amalgam of quality, vision, smart wordplay, passion, absurdity, and just the right amount of bullshit," he replied with a smile and a shrug.

She made a face. "And that's applicable to '80s hair metal?"

"I like to believe it applies to most pre-21st century music. After that, the amount of bullshit went beyond the limits of right, and crossed over into the realm of horseshit."

"That is an excellent way of putting it," she laughed and leaned back to rest her back on the chair's backrest, and he found he kinda missed the proximity of her. It made the conversation more… he didn't know what it made it, but it sure as hell was more pleasant like that.

"But I agree," she continued with a wistful sigh – a bit overdramatic if you asked him, but whatever – "2000 was definitely the last year of great music, it ended with Radiohead's 'Kid A'. But what a finish, am I right?"

Enjolras smiled. "Yes. Yes it was." 'Kid A' was actually one of his favorite albums. There was something about the minimalistic style and the weird mix of electronic, krautrock, jazz and other musical styles that should never have worked together, but did, and impeccably so. It really made the blood pump in his music fan veins. That, and any album that used an Ondes Martenot should be reasonably deemed a masterpiece.

"But you said that you liked wordplay in your music," Éponine continued, and it seemed like this topic was right up her alley, since she looked like she was a enjoying herself – he was too – "I'm assuming Def Leppard lyrics adequately fall into that category."

He raised his eyebrows, actually surprised that she would bring Leppard into the discussion, but a welcomed addition it certainly was. He cleared his throat and looked at her with a dark, serious expression. "Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light; television lover, baby, go all night; sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet; little miss innocent sugar me." He cleared his throat again after he finished the excerpt. "Éponine, if that's not genius wordplay, then I don't know what is."

She stared at him blankly for a while. Her expression was void and her eyes looked dead, and he worried that she might have had a stroke or something. But then her hands suddenly shot up and she pressed both index fingers to each temple and closed her eyes shut.

"What are you doing?" Enjolras blinked and gaped at her.

"Quiet!" she snapped, but didn't change anything about her position. "I'm currently re-playing the scene of you quoting 'Pour some sugar on me' and imprinting it into my memory for all eternity. This is a very important moment that I need to remember for the rest of my life."

Raising an eyebrow, he found that he could find no reply and he actually had to bite his lip to not burst out laughing. She was such a weirdo. "You're such a weirdo."

Éponine opened one eye to look at him. "And this coming from the man who just spoke the words 'razzle 'n' a dazzle' in a normal, everyday conversation?"

"'Ponine no conversation with you could possibly be considered 'normal'," Enjolras chuckled, and he was expecting her to attempt and fail to get back at him with some form of a snarky response, but instead she just smiled. Smiled really wide. Dimples and all.

"That's true," she replied and once again leaned forward, put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her intertwined hands. "But normal is boring and lacks character, don't you think?"

They were now staring each other in the face from opposite ends of their round table, and though they weren't all that close, Enjolras could still see the several light freckles that covered a small part of her nose and cheeks, the way her eyes squinted just a tiny bit when she smiled, or how the left side of her mouth slightly crooked upwards the wider her grin grew. Things he had never really noticed before, but now found strangely fascinating.

"You're absolutely right," he replied and felt himself become infected by her big, pretty smile.

Yeah, it really did look pretty. It suited her, too. He wondered why he had never realized how nice she looked when she smiled. Maybe he had never really looked, or maybe he had never seen her from this close, or maybe because it had never been directed at him before, but he was glad he finally got the chance to notice it.

'Ponine wasn't a normal young woman. She wasn't a normal anything. What kind of girl would walk into the Palais de Justice wearing a pair of black denims, leather jacket with a Star Wars t-shirt underneath – kudos for the t-shirt though, because Star Wars is awesome – and a pair of ratty old sneakers without batting an eyelash, even though he had made a point of advising her to dress appropriately? She would. And did.

It was a good thing it wasn't an official hearing or anything, and there was no need to suit up. He had just put on a pair of gray slacks and a white button-up, so he didn't look like he was trying too hard, but didn't look like he had just come back from a Green Day concert either.

She defied every rule of social conduct, spat on the traditional and shat on the mundane. No, Éponine wasn't normal, she was strange, she was peculiar, she was off-beat, and she was who she was. And for that, he respected and admired her.

They said nothing for a while, and twirled the left-over coffee they had in their cups. They both had only one or two sips left, but neither were rushing to take them.

He wanted to talk to her more, he felt like they never talked enough, which was weird because he had never felt the need for it before. Maybe it was because he had finally found a person who shared his excellent taste in music that he felt much more compelled to have their conversation continue.

"So, what's your favorite band?" he asked, and hey, it might have been one of the most shopworn conversation starters of all time, but at least he was breaking new ground. It didn't matter if it was lame, as long as they were talking again.

It took a moment before she found an answer, which was understandable because this was a very delicate existential question that should not be taken lightly. You could tell a lot about a person from their favorite band. Like how one who liked The Rolling Stones was more open-minded and welcoming of anything that was out of the ordinary, just like how the band's musical style involved incorporating various different musical genres into their own collective sound. Or like how Queen fans tended to have a bit of a tongue-in-cheek attitude, just like their music. Needless to say, Éponine's answer to this question was a vital element in the future of their relationship.

"The Beatles," she answered and said nothing else, as if just saying it out loud would answer any other questions he could throw at her. And fuck if it wasn't.

There was no need for 'Ponine to explain why The Beatles was her favorite. It was logical. It made so much sense he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it himself. Cheerful, wisecracking, mature, undisciplined, psychedelic, extroverted, optimistic, ironic, and realistic; words that described Éponine just as perfectly as they described the music of the greatest band in the world.

Enjolras approved. And the grin on his face gave visual proof.

And she smiled back at him, looking pretty damn proud of herself. And he was a little bit as well, if he had to be honest.

"So?" Éponine looked at him expectantly, "I'm waiting."

"For?" he shot her an innocent look while he twirled the cup of coffee in his hand. He knew what she wanted to know, but he didn't really want to tell her. It was hypocritical and a bit douchey of him to ask a question he had no intention of answering himself, but he'd never felt comfortable about telling people facts about himself.

"Bob Dylan."

His head snapped up from his cup and stared at her in mild shock. "How the hell did you know?" he asked, curious and slightly pissed that she had learned of this from someone other than him. Probably Pontmercy, the guy couldn't keep a secret even if Courgette's life depended on it.

"I just made a guess," she shrugged. "It makes a ton of sense though, wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out if they knew who you are."

Now he was really puzzled. "Explain."

She sighed and scratched the side of her head. "I don't know man, it just suits you?"

No, that was not good enough. "Not good enough."

"Fuck, fine," she huffed and shifted in her seat. She looked a bit uncomfortable, but he didn't care. He wanted to know how she knew and it was her own damn fault for bringing it up in the first place.

"Okay, so you know Dylan is basically a god – no I'm not saying you're a God, Enjolras, don't give me that look!"

She sighed in frustration, and it seemed like she was having a hard time finding the right words.

After a moment of thinking, she continued. "You know, his music has strong political, social, and philosophical influences, particularly the civil rights movement and his anti-war beliefs… He defied the music conventions of the time and wrote stuff that appealed to the counterculture… He had an extraordinary way with words, he was cynical, and a little bit arrogant... His music was serious, spiritual, rockin', bluesy, jazzy, country…" she took a breath, and seemed to give up on tying the loose ends of her speech together. "I don't know man, his music reminds me of you, and it fits the type of person you are." She shrugged and then snorted, looking down at her own mug and shaking her head. "Sorry, I just really don't know how to explain it. I know I probably made no sense whatsoever."

"No," Enjolras replied, keeping his gaze fixed on her, "it made a lot of sense."

He couldn't really think of anything to say, he was too freaked out and too amazed to properly word a reply. It was a weird notion that there were people who could read him just as well as he could read them; it hadn't been since Combeferre that someone had described him in so many words and in so many different adjectives, and Combeferre never used few words for anything, even his morning cereal. And she compared him to Dylan's music, and though she was wrong because nothing could compare to Dylan's music, it was still probably the most flattering thing anyone had ever said to him. He was actually at a loss for words, and that was a rare occurrence in itself.

Clearing his throat, he brought his cup to his lips and drank the rest of his coffee in one gulp. He noticed she still hadn't touched hers, and didn't look like she was anxious to finish it either. "So, are you going to guess what my favorite song is too?" he asked, trying to get the conversation from weird-awkward back to funny-awkward.

She shook her head and waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal. "Too many possibilities, no way I can guess." She looked up at him with a sparkle of curiosity in her eyes. "What is it?"

"'Talkin' bout a Revolution'" he replied, and hid his disappointment that she didn't even try; but he had to agree, it was a tough guess.

Her eyes widened and it looked like she had not been expecting that answer, but she quickly blinked her surprise away and nodded her head in approval. "Tracy Chapman. Nice! Fits you like a glove."

She laughed and he noticed she was tapping her foot under the table. " _Don't you know you're talking about a revolution, It sounds like a whisper, Poor people are gonna rise up, And get their share, Poor people are gonna rise up, And take what's theirs,_ " she began singing, grinning, clapping her hands and bobbing her head in time with the beat, and Enjolras couldn't help but think that she really, really sucked.

Tone deaf would have been a compliment for Éponine in this case. She was totally off tune and she had turned the melody of a powerful anthem of freedom to Ethel Merman's Disco album.

"Please. Stop." He was almost begging her. No, actually he was begging her. He was pleading, she sucked so much.

"What?" she asked, looking all confused. Good Lord, this girl must have been deaf or something, or have too much confidence in herself if she couldn't realize how bad her singing was.

"You know, I'm glad you know and like the song," he paused, and tried to tell her in the kindest of ways that she should never sing in front of him ever again… yeah, he had nothing. "But you really need to never sing in front of me ever again."

She didn't say anything in reply, but let her middle finger do all the talking.

Really, good thing he didn't give a fuck about other people, because the looks the other patrons were throwing them would have made most people want to bury their heads in the ground, ostrich-style.

Well, at least Éponine didn't seem mad at him. If anything, she seemed more bemused than anything. That, and she  _had_ stopped singing, so all was well in the world again. Except now they weren't talking again.

Enjolras wracked his mind for another topic of discussion, but he could only come up with a single one. But hey, it wasn't a topic he would bring up with just anyone. It was delicate, and important, and it could make or break their relationship forever.

"So, what do you think about Zeppelin?"

Her head snapped up and her mouth fell open into a lowercase o-shape. "The Led? Did you just ask me about the Led?"

Apparently he had just struck gold. "I did. But take care, I'm gonna be judging you extra hard on how you behave during this discussion," he warned, and it maybe would have been funny, had he not been 100% serious. "So, what do you think about Zeppelin?"

"Mmm, Zeppelin." Her head tilted back and this look of pure ecstasy appeared on her face that matched the orgasmic sound that came out of her throat.

His dick twitched in his pants.

' _Whoa, what the fuck?_ '

Why did it just do that? Sure, he liked Zeppelin more than most people, but he didn't like it that much. Okay, so they were pretty sexy in their day, and their music was basically sex, but his dick shouldn't be twitching for a rock band made up of big haired, white British dudes, no matter how godlike they were.

And Éponine shouldn't be moaning and looking like she had just touched Jesus either. Though, John Bonham did look a little bit like Jesus, and he was definitely cooler. Okay yeah, he would be moaning if he touched the greatest drummer of all times too; shame he'd been dead for over 30 years.

So they started talking about the perfection that was Led Zeppelin. They agreed on Jimmy Page, or 'the pontiff of power riffing' as he was rightfully called, being the best guitarist of all time, which was amazing, since there were very few occasions when two music fans would see eye to eye regarding their own gods of rock.

They actually agreed on a lot of things, he noticed with mild shock. For instance, both of them loving Robert Plant's expressive palette, the high range and loud volume of his voice. Or that Kashmir was actually their greatest piece, contrary to popular belief that Stairway to Heaven, as holy as it was, held the title. Hell, she even gushed over Bonzo's godlike skill and power on the drums with him. That one made him really happy.

Then they analyzed the band's blues and folk influences, the melodies and rhythmic variations, and how their lyrics were basically poetry set to music. An illuminating and highly philosophical discussion it had been.

 _Then,_  she actually started telling him about how she lost her virginity to 'Whole lotta love' and that's where he had to stop the conversation; especially when she started getting into the details, and his stupid dick began twitching again for some reason, which was pretty distracting in itself. Good for her for being open and comfortable about her sexuality, he definitely liked that about her, but the images in his head were a bit too vivid for 11 in the morning. Plus, the thought of her being with other men made him uncomfortable, and he just didn't want to think of Éponine in that way.

And this was how one of the greatest rock songs of all times was forever ruined for him. Fucking swell.

And with that charming finale, Éponine finally emptied her gross slush and motioned for the bimbo waitress to get their checks, which she more than gladly did, judging by how fast she got to the table and how long she took till she handed them their change.

Éponine took his change, gaining herself a pretty nasty glare from the chick. Not that she would have cared, hell, she probably enjoyed pissing the woman off. "Who knows what she did with that hand just now," was her reasoning, and he had to admit, it was a good one, though his idea of what she had done with it might have differed a little bit from hers.

Now came the point where they were supposed to part ways. They had gotten their caffeine fix and were now out of the café's premises, so it was only expected that they should just go about doing their own things.

He'd go home, drink some more coffee, relax with a good book (Rousseau, Voltaire, or Neil Gaiman… never and easy choice), and maybe even watch a movie later.

She'd probably just go do some weird shit, like sit around in the park with her iPod, with Iron Maiden blaring in her earphones as she'd watch people walking by and feeding the pigeons. Or maybe sit around in front of the Eiffel Tower, laughing her ass off at disoriented tourists and their stupid photo poses. Or maybe she'd sit around at home, munching on peanuts, reading Marvel Comics (he remembered seeing her with X-Men T-shirts a few times) as she'd wait for her siblings to get home. Éponine's activities sure seemed to involve a lot of sitting around in his head.

"So, what are you up to next?" Enjolras ended up asking. It was mere curiosity. He was actually looking forward to spending the day cooped up alone in his apartment. No, really.

She did the cute scrunching of the face thing again. "Well, I was thinking of going to do some grocery shopping. I mean, I'm out and the supermarket is only a few blocks away, so might as well."

"Oh." Well that was unexpectedly ordinary of her.

"Hey," Éponine nudged him in the ribs with her elbow (and it hurt…  _again_ ), "I could use a big, strong man to help me carry my groceries." She batted her eyelashes and took a strand of hair and started twirling it with a finger. "Help a girl out, big boy?"

God, he hoped she didn't really believe this shit would actually work on him.

"Yeah, sure."

_Fuck!_

"Knew you couldn't refuse my irresistible feminine charms," she smiled a crooked smile and blew him a kiss. It was faker than a Las Vegas magic show, but just like those ridiculous spectacles, it did cause a stir somewhere deep down in the hellhole that was his chest. He'd better not be blushing.

"Or I'm just a gentleman," Enjolras deadpanned, looking straight ahead and thoroughly unimpressed by her shit.

"Or I'm just too sexy… too sexy for my shirt… too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurtsss." She licked her finger and pressed it on her hip, making a hissing sound when it touched her skin. It. Was. So. Lame.

"God, you're lame."

"But entertaining," she retorted and then continued her monstrous rendition of that monstrosity of a song.

Enjolras didn't reply, letting her wiggle her butt and hands as she walked, still not caring about what they must have looked like. Because she really was entertaining, albeit out of her fucking mind. And he liked it.

And this is seriously how they walked the three blocks to the supermarket, Éponine singing and dancing to 'I'm too sexy'. Badly. Which wasn't easy but somehow she pulled it off. And Enjolras suffering deep emotional scars and smiling about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you are. Hoped this much longer chapter made up for the first one.
> 
> And yes, I know the direction I went with the characters in this AU is unconventional, but I personally really like it, which in the end, is all that matters.
> 
> Please tell me what you thought of it, I'd love to know.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and keep being awesome.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

**They're just waffles! (Don't threaten someone's pee hole)**

The supermarket was a pretty small establishment for being placed in the middle of the city. It wasn't part of one of those big corporations that squeezed every last cent from the hard working population like the greedy leeches they were. No, this one was a regular, family friendly, family run shop full of mothers, grandmothers, big sisters and a few men looking pale in the baby food aisle.

"Hold yourself in readiness, friend, we're discount shopping today," Éponine told him with the most serious look on her face he had ever seen after finding a shopping cart and pushing it in front of him. "Today, you are my donkey," she said and patted him on the shoulder with an imperious nod.

What, so now he was her livestock? "Remind me again, why I'm helping you out?"

"Well, you say it's because you're a gentleman, I say it's because I'm good at making other people my slaves," she replied matter-of-factly as she motioned for him to follow her into no man's land, AKA the frozen food section.

He gave her a withering look. "You do realize you picked the wrong person to oppress, 'Ponine. I will not stand for this sort of tyranny." He still took charge of the cart though.

"Oh? What are you gonna do about it, slave boy? Build a barricade out of frozen pizza boxes?" She laughed a taunting laugh that, had she not been a girl, would have earned her a good slap over the head. God, she could be such an annoying little shit when she tried. Actually, she didn't really need to try; he suspected it was a natural talent.

"No, but that pyramid of canned peas could work." And why the fuck was he even going along with it?

"Oh, you rebellious scum! Why I should have you whipped for -" blah, blah, blah, she kept on rambling and threatening to punish him for his disobedience even as she started adding frozen strudels in the cart.

He had stopped listening after the first minute, and while talking about how she'd go all medieval S&M on his ass amused him greatly (he kept remembering Courfeyrac's funny walk from last night), he was too distracted by his damn cock that just wouldn't stop twitching inside his pants as she spoke.

Maybe he should have it checked; this was not usual behavior for the old boy. No, wait, that would mean some strange old dude would have to put his hand all over his junk. Yeah, no.

His dick finally stopped when he was startled by a sudden a loud gasp that came from behind, and he turned to find Éponine hunched over one of the freezers, her shoulders shaking slightly.

What now? Did she find gourmet frozen burger patties or something?

He approached her and was just about to tap her on the shoulder to ask what was up when she surprised him by turning 180 degrees on her heels with four boxes that were taped together in twos in each hand.

Both of them started at the unexpected proximity, and he took a step back almost instantly.

Personal space was sacred to Enjolras, and he considered it sacrilege when his own was breached. It wasn't necessarily horrible being that close to her. It was fine, actually. It was okay. It was nice. But yeah, personal space. It needed to be personal. What had he been saying?

"Enjolras, look!" Éponine said, holding the boxes up with teary eyes and looking like she had just creamed herself. He couldn't help but wonder if that was really what her face looked like after...

"Waffles. Two at the price of one." She lifted the packages and practically shoved them in his face. "TWO AT THE PRICE OF ONE, ENJOLRAS!"

He stared at the boxes, then at her expression of pure bliss, then back at the boxes again. "Am I supposed to jump up and down and squeal like a little girl at Disneyland?"

"Motherfucker, you should!" Éponine slapped him over the shoulder with one of the stacks and shook her head in disgust. "Clearly, you can't comprehend the joy of these leavened battery gifts from Jesus Christ, you heathen!"

"…Wow."

This woman was out of her mind, he thought as he rubbed his shoulder and wondered just how many bruises he was going to end up with by the time this day was over.

She must have bought at least half the packages that were available, and Enjolras just couldn't believe she could like a piece of patterned dough cooked in a toaster so much. They weren't even all that good, if you asked him.

He could never understand those who went ga-ga over food now that he thought of it. Why be so obsessed over something that just ends up becoming shit anyway? And hey, he enjoyed spending time on the can as much as the next guy, coffee tasted best when on the toilet after all, but to him, it was all just a waste of very precious time that could be spent overthrowing governments and bringing down corporate capitalism. He was so close to achieving them too.

"This day cannot possibly get any better, not after finding such bounty," Éponine said in a sing-song voice after she finished filling half the cart with fucking waffles.

"Hey, did you check the expiration date for those?" He picked up one of the boxes to examine it. "Usually when they do something like this, they're looking to get rid of them as fast as - "

"Who cares about that?!" she snapped and snatched the box from his hand like a madwoman and held it up in the air with both hands like it was fucking Simba. "Tomorrow morning, we dine like kings!"

"Oh-kay... Yeah, maybe we should move on."

He'd had enough of this aisle, and he was freezing his balls off a little bit. And if Éponine was going to go batshit crazy for every little discount she found, the faster they got this accursed shopping spree over with, the faster he could return to his regular, coffee-filled, waffle-free life. Maybe she'd tire herself out in the produce section, he hoped.

It wasn't like Enjolras blamed her for wanting to come out cheap. He really didn't. God knew how hard she worked for the shit salary she got, and if she wanted to pay all her bills and feed herself and her siblings, then she would have to save every single penny she could. And she wasn't one to accept help either, so all she and her family owned was bought with her own hard-earned money.

It really was unfair. It was outrageous and it pissed him off beyond reason how unfair it was. Because Éponine didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to bust her ass like she was just to fucking survive.

The Thénardier kids had always had it rough. Too rough. Their parents were a couple of parasites who cared more about money, the bottle and their dope than their kids, but who were now were thankfully rotting in jail, where their hateful asses belonged. Shit, he had practically thrown them in there himself, with the help of Pontmercy and Courgette's dad.

Multiple accounts of burglary, assault, extortion, fraud, and even one or two charges of murder… yeah, a couple of real model citizens those two were, and the thought that they had involved their children in the 'family business' made him want to fucking puke and call in that favor with one of his dad's more discreet friends. It had taken so much self-control, Combeferre and chai tea not to pounce on her dad and tear him limb from limb for everything he'd made his family go through, and he still regretted it to this day that he didn't at least manage to throw in a punch to that evil son of a bitch's face.

He started remembering the days of the trials and what a completely different girl Éponine had been then. Gloomy and fed up with life, angry and tired, afraid, but prepared and resigned for life to spit in her face yet again. She was brave, braver than anyone he ever knew, and selfless to boot. She never cared about what would become of her, as she had told him; it didn't matter if they'd charge and send her to jail for the things she had done, but then, what would happen to Azelma and Gavroche? All she had cared about were her little brother and sister, which had been the reason why, for the first and only time, Éponine had asked for help.

Her siblings had been underage, while she had barely turned 18. Chances would have been, after the Thénardiers got convicted, they would be sent either to foster homes or orphanages, which was something Éponine would rather have died, or mass-murdered, than let happen.

It had been a close call, but thanks to his and Pontmercy's, or rather his granddad's connections and convincing cases, they had managed to get the Thénardiers 20 years and help Éponine be granted custody of her brother and sister. That was also the first and only time he had seen Éponine cry. Not like she cried during The Lion King or Toy Story 3, but real, big fat tears of joy and relief. It had been a beautiful uncomfortable moment and she had given him the biggest bear hug he had ever received, along with tears and snot on his shirt.

Everything had been going well for them since then, except for one matter that was a source of sadness and depression for Éponine to this day, and that was the issue with her two missing brothers.

There were two more Thénardier kids, two boys, one should be around five, the other about seven, who their parents had fucking sold to who knows who and who knows where a few years back. Yeah, sold. Shit like this actually still happens in this supposedly civilized society they were living in. Made songs like 'What a wonderful world' feel really incongruous.

No one knew where the two boys had ended up, or where they were now, and Enjolras knew it was Éponine's greatest desire to see and take her little brothers back. Even though she knew that adding two more mouths to feed would probably end up bankrupting them, she had still tried everything to find the kids, but had come up short every time.

That's when he and Les Amis decided to take matters into their own hands. She, nor Azelma and Gavroche knew of the 'get the Thénardier family back together project', reason being all of them were too goddamn proud to accept their help had they offered it. Pigheadedness and pride ran in the family, after all.

So far, they had come up with nothing, but none of the guys had any intention of giving up anytime soon. Enjolras had actually flown all the way to Switzerland once, on a hint that they might have ended up there. It had been a dead end, but he was definitely not one to lose hope.

His mind was kept preoccupied by the Thénardier dilemma even as they strolled through the aisles and Éponine kept throwing shit in the cart, her sixth sense for bargains on full alert and probably keeping her too preoccupied to even register his presence anymore. Guess he really was her donkey.

It was only when suddenly, a marvelous, divine smell hit his nostrils that he stepped down from his Mind Palace and back into reality (and yeah he had a Mind Palace; actually more of a Mind Castle… Motte and Bailey… 12th century… Wales).

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes in pure, junkie bliss. "Coffee aisle." Oh, he was in heaven. But when he opened them, he was met by such a horrific sight that mortified him down to the bone marrow.

"Oh no you don't!"

He practically dashed to where Éponine was and slapped her hand away from the packet of instant coffee she was stupidly about to grab.

"Ow! What the fuck?!" She glared at him, clutching her hand and rubbing where he had hit it.

"Éponine Thénardier, if you even dare touch this disgusting, tasteless, imposturous shit, then so help me I will take it upon myself to literally smack some goddamn sense into you! It'll hurt me more than it'll hurt you, but it'll be for your own good."

She actually had the nerve to roll her eyes at him after what she had just been about to pull. "Listen dude, I know you and caffeine have a dirty little love affair going on, but instant is cheaper and quicker.  _Don't_  let me fucking remind you about my little morning problem; time is not my friend at 7am. Plus, you know I don't have a coffee machine, and no way in Mordor can I afford one right now."

Oh, this poor, misguided, Lord of the Rings fan. Good thing she had the guru of caffeinated brewed beverages to guide her to the light; or Lothlórien, if they were playing  _that_  game.

He made a hand signal for Éponine to wait right there, and he dashed off, running around the aisle, eyes and hands picking up the exact items he needed in a flash faster than the Flash. After he got everything on his mind's list, he returned by her side and stared her from above, ready to bestow his wisdom upon the sad peasant.

"Listen up and listen good, because I am not going to have this conversation with you again," he said, almost robotically, as if it had done this a thousand times (actually, it had only been 4 other times, but those were stories for another time). "Even the cheapest brand of ground coffee is better than that instant garbage people dare attribute the same name as this brew of warriors." He held up a bag of some no name brand coffee and threw it with a majestic flick of the hand into the shopping cart.

"Okay, I believe you chieftain, I really do, but I told you I don't have a coffee machine to - "

Enjolras held up a hand barely millimeters away from her face and silenced her. "Coffee filters." He held up a pack of the aforementioned product so she could see it and then tossed it with the rest of the shopping.

"Pay close attention, 'Ponine, because I am only going to explain this once, so make sure you burn these instructions deep into that intriguing, eerie mind of yours." He ignored the glare she threw him and began counting up fingers as he spoke. "Mug. Strainer. Filter. Coffee. Pour hot water slowly over coffee. Voila, manual drip machine. Easy. 10 minutes."

Her eyebrows rose a few notches. "Oh, that's pretty - "

"I'm not finished. Option number two. Let water boil to a simmer then turn heat off. Add a teaspoon of coffee for every 200 milliliters of water. Again, mug, strainer, filter. Pour brewed coffee slowly." He took a deep breath. "Cheap, quick and easy traditional coffee brewing. You're welcome, Kimosabe." He nodded and gave her the good ol' wink and a smirk to go with it.

"Wow." Éponine blinked and stared at him blankly. Clearly she was too impressed to even be able to articulate her praises. Completely understandable.

"Well," she cleared her throat and pursed her lips, "Now that was. That was… Yeah."

She shook her head slightly and after a few seconds looked like she had found her voice back. "Well, now that that's over with, do you think you can go get me some peanut butter? I gotta go grab something real quick."

"What?"

Oh hell no.

"No. You're not leaving me by myself. I won't let you." Enjolras shook his head so hard he got could she do that? Even after he had shared his wisdom with her. "No, I'm coming with you."

Okay, so supermarkets scared him a little bit. Only a little, though. And hey, lots of people had this problem; he was sure there was even some '-phobia' name for it too.

"Well, you have two choices," she replied and held up to fingers in a piece sign. "One, you could go fetch me that peanut butter and I'll even give you a spoonful to lick later, as a reward," she counted off one finger, which left only the middle one standing. Hilarious.

"Two, you could  _not_  go fetch me the peanut butter and instead come help me choose which tampons and depilatory cream to buy. Your call."

He blinked. "Okay, so where do I find the peanut butter?"

Yeah, Enjolras would rather face the great unknown of this supermarket on his own than face the great terror of the lady products aisle. There was only so much bravery he had to spare, and he was still saving it up for the sweets section.

After explaining flight attendant style where he had to go, he set off by himself while she ran in the other direction to buy mysterious girl things he had no knowledge of, or interest in.

God, he felt so awkward pushing the shopping cart by himself, and even  _he_  was feeling a little bit self-conscious of the fact that it was full to the brim with goddamn waffle boxes. He must have look like a complete gastronomically challenged loon.

Enjolras was almost power walking to the section where he would find the stupid peanut butter, pushing past grannies with carts full of cat food and moms carrying a basket in one arm and a kid in the other, ignoring the cusses they muttered and the glares they threw at him. Fuck them, he just wanted to get his stuff and find Éponine so they could get the fuck out of here ASAP. Sacrifices had to be made for the greater good, which was himself.

"Victory!" He huffed in triumph and relief when he finally reached his destination. Now all he had to do was just pick one… One…

"Oh fuck…"

Of course. Of fucking course there would be over 10 different kinds of fucking peanut butter on the rack, in 10 different sized jars, that came in 10 different brands and 10 different prices. Fucking great. He squinted to read the labels of some of them: sugar-free, sodium-free, smooth, chunky, organic, natural, regular… why were there so many types of fucking peanut butter?! It was peanut butter. Butter made out of peanuts. What kind of fucking world was this where a guy couldn't just buy a jar of peanut butter without feeling like he was on fucking Jeopardy!? Which was right and which was wrong?! He felt like he couldn't breathe well and everything was starting to grow warm. What kind of peanut butter did Éponine like?! What was he gonna do?!

"Hey, you okay?" Someone spoke and he jumped a mile up, almost having the living shit scared out of him.

Enjolras turned his head to find a man standing beside him, staring at him with a worried and slightly freaked out look on his face. The guy was taller than he was, and was of a pretty big build. He seemed like one of those healthy office workers, who jogged in the mornings, and came home to drink one of those disgusting smoothies that made your shit all gooey, because real men nowadays apparently have a healthy digestive system.

The dude was wearing a pretty fancy suit, which clashed a little bit with the shopping basket he was carrying in one arm. He was a guy who could be deemed attractive, if you were into the rich, clean-cut, bright eyed, brilliant smile, probably-goes-to-a-salon-to-get-manicures type.  _Disney Prince_! Yeah, that was the right word.

"You looked like you were freaking out a little bit over there," said mister good-looking, flashing him a big, exaggeratedly white smile.

"Yeah, I'm good," Enjolras replied a bit awkwardly. "Just couldn't decide which type to buy." He pointed at the antagonistic shelf and internally cringed. How pathetic was he that he would lose his shit over a jar of fucking peanut butter?

Prince Charming chuckled a really charming chuckle that kinda pissed him off a little bit. "Well," he said in a deep, clear voice that probably attracted bluebirds to his window in the morning, "I'd like to think that the most expensive one is usually the best choice." He picked up a jar of organic, super-smooth peanut butter and placed it in Enjolras' hands. "Quality asks for good investment, I always say." Then he grinned and winked at him like some old-fashioned car salesman, and Enjolras puked in his mouth a little bit.

He did appreciate the advice on the peanut butter, though. "Shame not everyone can invest," he muttered as he rolled and eyed the jar in his hands pensively.

"Ah well, society is perverse like that, isn't it? I'm Gerard." He extended his hand to Enjolras and flashed him another blinding smile.

He nodded and shook the guy's, Gerard's, hand briefly before letting go. "Nice to meet you."

"I haven't seen you around here before, are you new to the neighborhood?" Pretty boy asked as he picked up an identical jar of peanut butter and placed in carefully in his basket, where it fit among the salads and fruit like there had been a special place assigned from it from the get-go. Wow, a guy who was more anal retentive than he was, what a world.

"No, actually, I'm here with someone. She just went to pick up some other things."

"Oh," Gerard replied and looked slightly put off for some reason. "Helping the girlfriend out with the shopping?"

Enjolras did a double take. "What?" His head whipped around, looking to see if Éponine had not been near enough to hear the ridiculous shit that had just come out of this guy's mouth. "No. No, no. No, she and I… No!"

"Oh." And the smile was back at full intensity. This guy was pretty fucking weird, the way he went from hot to cold and back to hot faster than it took Grantaire to down a shot of Tequila, which was Guinness Book of Records fast, mind you.

"I'm terribly sorry, usually when a man and a woman go shopping together, people automatically assume they would be a steady couple, or married." Gerard laughed and covertly eyed him with a raised eyebrow, as if he was trying to make sure of something.

Well fuck society and its stereotypes. A man and a woman could go shopping and be friends just fine. He and Éponine were just fine.  _Everything_  was fine.

"No, 'Ponine and I…" he wanted to reply, but the words got stuck in his throat for some reason.

"She does seem to like waffles, though," Gerard cut in and smirked at the shopping cart full of discount waffle packages, actually saving him the trouble of giving an answer he couldn't seem to find,.

"…yeah." Enjolras looked at cart, then at the fancy jar of peanut butter he was holding and smiled. "She does." He put the jar he back on the shelf and instead picked the cheapest, most regular kind out of the lot and threw it in the cart.

He didn't wait for Gerard to even ask. He didn't even care what the guy had to say anymore. All he wanted was to find Éponine and go home, or anywhere else. There was a bit of an urge to see her bubbling up somewhere unmentionable and it spooked him out, but he would think about that later. He needed out and he needed it now.

"I'll see you around, man," Enjolras nodded briefly in Gerard's direction and turned to leave to go find Éponine, but he was stopped in his tracks by a big, apelike hand on his shoulder that kept him firmly in place.

"Hey, why the rush?" Gerard was looking down at him with a lopsided grin and his hand clenched around his shoulder. "We should talk a bit more. I don't get to meet interesting fellows like you much."

Enjolras made a face, and tried, and failed to shake the guy's hand off. "Dude, you just met me, how the fuck do you know I'm interesting?" His personal space was being invaded again, and this time it wasn't even in the slightest bit pleasant, and the look Disney Prince was throwing at him was making all kinds of alarms go off.

"I'm a good judge of character." He still kept fucking grinning like a moron. "Why not stay a while longer? Let's chat more."

_Oh._

If Gerard had gone from hot to cold, Enjolras in that moment went to full on blizzard. Every time. Every fucking time. Did it really get to the point where he couldn't go out of the house without some chick or slimeball wanting to get in his pants? 'Good judge of character' his ass; he wanted to snort, but he was too angry to even pretend to be amused. See,  _that's_  why he didn't trust people, no one was kind just for the sake of being kind anymore, it was all just to get something, or someone, in return. The world was a fucked up place and he wasn't changing it fast enough.

Apparently, Gerard was not only a good looking douchebag, he was also an idiot, because he had the gall to ignore Enjolras' death glare and actually approach the iceberg.

"You know, I think you and I could have a lot of fun together," motherfucker got closer and closer.

One breath, two breaths, three breaths, four breaths; he had to stop because Gerard's fucking expensive, high-class cologne making him want to vomit, or maybe it was just him. Probably both.

His fists were clenched at his sides, and it took so much self-control not to bust this asshole's skull open; there were children present, and Enjolras was pretty sure that seeing brains scattered all over the floor wouldn't do them good in the long run. He considered breaking his arm, but again, not the best course of action for their location.

He was so busy contemplating how to end this guy that he didn't notice Éponine approaching until she was basically a meter away from where they were. "Enjolras?"

Both his and Gerard's heads shot up when they heard her speak. She was eyeing the scene with a frown, and her eyes were dark and pretty goddamn terrifying, considering her overall appearance. Her arms were full with boxes that looked eerily feminine, a bag of tomatoes, and a long ass English cucumber that she was holding under her armpit. It was quite the sight.

"Yo, everything okay?" she asked and dumped the load of shopping into the cart, along with something black and small she pulled out of the pocket of her jeans that he couldn't really make out what it was.

Enjolras didn't get a chance to even answer, because fucking Prince Not So Charming actually cut him off and started speaking with the most condescending tone he had ever fucking heard. "Everything is fine, Mademoiselle, now please excuse us, we were having a conversation."

Ooooh, he was gonna get it now, and judging by the red tint Éponine's skin had taken, he was about to get it good.

She turned around for a second, picked the cucumber out of the cart and held it up in the air as she slowly approached Gerard, like a glorious lioness on the hunt. "Listen,  _Monsieur_ , I can clearly tell my friend over there is uncomfortable by your gross, pretty-boy ass all up in his face, so I advise you to back the fuck up, or I take this here cucumber, which I was planning on using to make a killer salad by the way, and shove it up your pee hole so hard you'll be pissing blood out your nostrils if you don't. And I say pee hole and not asshole, in the off chance that you might actually enjoy having big, long vegetables rammed up inside it." She took a deep breath and glared at Gerard with such intensity, Enjolras was worried the guy might spontaneously combust. "Get your hands of my friend.  _Now_."

The pallor of his face made Gerard look like a corpse, which gave Enjolras, and probably Éponine, a few ideas, but they agreed with a few glances between them that murder would be too much of a hassle, and this guy totally wasn't worth the paperwork.

Without even so much as another word, pretty boy douchebag's hand left Enjolras' shoulder and he was off like a bat out of hell, before Éponine even got the chance to make glower at him some more.

Then she turned on him, and Enjolras felt his blood run cold. "What the fuck were you doing, man?" she barked and threw the cucumber back into the cart with such force it snapped in two. It made Enjolras flinch and unconsciously move his hand over his crotch. "Jesus, I leave you alone for  _five_  fucking minutes and I come back to find you getting sexually harassed by some fucking Disney Prince."

Enjolras snorted and he looked at her, ready to pretend to defend himself, not really feeling upset anymore. How could he after such a beautiful display of baddasery on her part? Still, he found his eyes were captivated by the angry blush on her face and the glint of sweat on her forehead. You could always tell when 'Ponine was mad, which was probably intentional, because no one dared fuck with her while the beast was out.

"Should I apologize?"

She sighed and rubbed at her face. "Nah, it wasn't your fault. Just don't talk to strangers from now on, okay?"

He smiled and nodded. "I can't believe you threatened his pee hole, though," he reminisced happily as they  _finally_  moved along in the direction of the checkout counter. "It was fucking beautiful."

She shrugged, trying to look all nonchalant as she started laying the shopping on the counter, but the twitch of her lips was a dead giveaway of how fucking proud of herself she was. "Yeah, well, I needed to put the fear of God into him."

"So you were actually going to sacrifice your killer salad for me?" He smirked and looked at his feet. "I'm touched."

She laughed as she put the last of the shopping on the counter, and Enjolras noticed she was especially careful in hiding that small black thing from his view. He guessed it was probably other embarrassing girly things, so he didn't ask.

"You're more important than food, man, and I really honest to God mean that. Hey, you got the right kind of peanut butter." Éponine raised her head, looking mildly surprised and grinned at him; now that was what he called a brilliant smile.

And shit, Enjolras really was touched. He was actually touched in the deep dark abyss that should be called his heart. He didn't even remember when the last time  _that_  happened was.

Today sure was weird, what with the heart touching and the cock twitching. If Joly weren't such a little psychopathic hypochondriac he would actually ask for some advice, but alas, he was insane. He couldn't ask 'Ferre, he would just get annoying and look for some deeper, philosophic meaning behind his symptoms, and nobody had time for that.

It took exactly 10 minutes for them to check everything out and pay the cashier (he had counted), and now they were finally outside in the blessed sun, hands full of plastic bags, and Enjolras actually swore to himself not to go near a supermarket for the next two to three weeks until he detoxed himself of the godforsaken atmosphere of self-service shops.

"You coming or what?" Éponine called out as she held the door of a cab open for him, and Enjolras wondered when the hell she had even hailed it.

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, but followed her anyway. "Where are we going?"

She closed the door behind her after they both got in and smirked. "My place."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, thanks a lot for reading. I know the quality is slightly lower than the previous parts, but in my defense those were written in the span of several months, while this was done in less than a week and most of it during work. Unfortunately, I can't do any better right now.
> 
> Hope you liked it nonetheless.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and please keep it up, it motivates me to keep going.
> 
> Note: the next part will take a while, because I want to get chapter 6 of The Only One written, so please be patient with me.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know, douchey of me to end it like that, but if you know me, then you'll also know I'm evil. I'd love to read your opinions, so please review if you can and want to.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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